


Please take away my pains, Charlotte

by actual_musical_trash



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, F/M, Light Smut, Pre-Canon, Sad boi Charlotte, Sad boi Ted, Therapy, and a little bit during
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 08:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19225456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actual_musical_trash/pseuds/actual_musical_trash
Summary: Sort of Ted/Charlottes backstory??? Idk, here you go





	Please take away my pains, Charlotte

I think a lot of people usually have certain people they see a lot, but don't know anything about, but like to pretend they do. For me, there's a couple I see every month at my therapist. Usually I see them walking out of the marriage counselor’s office. She’s always right behind him, staring at him like a lost puppy. He smiles at her, but there’s no real emotion behind it. And the dark circles under her eyes tell a story much different from the smile she keeps on her face around him.

 

By the time I was called back today, they hadn’t shown up. This wasn’t unusual, sometimes they wouldn’t show up at all.

 

I walked into my therapist’s office and sat down on the couch. It was mostly the same as it is everytime, me telling him about my life since the last time I saw him, him telling me what I should do to improve myself. Usually I don’t let people try to help me, but when Bill pointed out the coverage of therapy in the office’s health care plan, I figured there was no harm in trying out what many people had told me I needed. At the end of the session, he usually just summarizes what happened today, but this time, he sighed and just looked back at his notes.

“Ted, you push people away, you don’t let people help you, I’m sure you know this. Your closest friends are your employees, but you don’t treat them like friends. You should try reaching out to someone, get to know them, let them be your friend. Not everyone is out to get you.”

 

I walked out to the receptionist’s desk to schedule my next appointment, thinking about what he had said. As they read off available dates, I checked my calendar, which was empty. Suddenly, we heard yelling from the parking lot outside, which was cut off by the revving of an engine and a car squealing away.

I finished setting up my next session, a month from today as usual, and walked outside. I saw that lady standing in the middle of the parking lot. She turned away when she saw me, but I could tell she was crying. My initial thought was just to leave like I hadn't seen anything, but then I thought back to what my therapist had told me. I walked up to her and put my hand on her shoulder, making her flinch.

 

“Hey... You okay?”

 

She sniffed and nodded, crossing her arms.

 

“That's BS. I'm guessing that was your husband that just left you here… Let me get you a coffee?”

 

She didn't respond for a second, taking a deep breath. But when she turned around she looked up at me with her puffy eyes and tired face.

 

“...Thank you…”

 

We got to Beanie's and I ordered a chai iced tea for me and a regular coffee with sugar for her. We at down at a table against the wall, she stared at her coffee in silence. 

 

“Sorry for asking, but what was going on earlier?”

 

“Oh, that was just… Sam, well, he's just l-like that sometimes…”

 

I didn't want to pry, so I didn't ask any further questions. But after a bit she filled me in on Sam some more. They were going to counseling, he was cheating on her, he sounded like a real jerk. But she kept insisting that he was trying to be better. I know guys like him. He wasn't ever going to “get better”, and something told me she knew.

 

I drove her back to my place, she didn't want to face Sam just yet. I grabbed two beers from my fridge and joined her on the couch, where she sat with her shoulders hunched over, taking up as little room as possible.

 

We sat in silence for some time, but after grabbing us both second bottles, I felt myself getting angry at Sam, a man I didn’t even know.

“I can't understand why he would cheat on someone like you.”

She blushed and turned away.

“...I can’t understand why someone like you would be with-”

I didn’t finish my thought, but she turned towards me. 

“Sorry… I shouldn’t- It’s not my place…”

She leaned in, close to my face.

“Kiss me, Ted.”

Her words caught me off guard. Usually I wouldn't object, but I felt bad for her.

“Aren’t you married?”

“I think Sam has made it quite clear that this is... an open relationship...”

The mention of Sam reignited my anger. He was a scumbag, he didn’t deserve her. Not that I’m a saint of any kind, but maybe I could make her feel better, at least right now. 

 

I closed the gap between our faces. I could feel the tears still lingering on her cheeks, taste the alcohol on her breath. I put one hand on her thigh, gently, and pulled away for a second. I thought about putting a stop to this, just for a second, but the look on her face was something I hadn’t seen yet today. She didn’t look like she was thinking about Sam one bit, didn’t look scared… happy, maybe? So, against my better judgement, I put my hand on her shoulder and look into her eyes.

“Hey, tell me when you want me to stop, okay?”

I pulled her onto my lap and into another kiss. My hands moved slowly from her shoulder to her hair, from her thigh to her waist. Her hands, once shaky, now confidently found their way under my shirt. And, she never stopped me. 

 

The car ride afterwards was completely silent. I dropped her off down the street, so Sam wouldn’t see my car, and left her with a small wave out the passenger side window. When I got back home, I closed and locked the door behind me, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt filling my stomach. What had I just done? Had an affair with someone’s wife? A  _ police officer’s  _ wife. He’d probably kill me if he ever found out.

 

A month later, I walked into the waiting room to see Charlotte sitting on the couch alone. The receptionist asked her if she was ready to go back, and she insisted that Sam was just running late, he’d be here any minute. But when I went to leave, she was still sitting there, head in her hands. The receptionist wasn’t at her desk. 

I sat down next to Charlotte, gently placing my hand on her knee, rubbing my thumb back and forth against the soft fabric of her skirt. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly, still wiping away tears with the other.

“Let me buy you a drink?”

 

From then on, she would always show up at my door crying, or call me and we would meet at a bar and get drunk. But no matter how the night started, it always ended the same.

 

Eventually I lost track of how many times we met, now it was more than once a week. It went from once a month to after she fought with Sam, but then she kept coming over more and more. Sometimes I would go a week without seeing her at all, sometimes she would just spend the entire day at my house, even when I had to go to work. It was nice coming home to her. I found myself looking forward to it. Was that bad?

 

I cried at a therapy session for the first time ever. My therapist said I seemed to be making progress, that we were breaking through to something, but I almost felt worse. Sure, maybe I as turning this into something it definitely wasn’t because I wanted a physical relationship with someone, who doesn’t? But I knew she wasn’t doing this for me, she was fulfilling an aspect of her relationship that Sam just wasn’t living up to.

I knew deep down that I needed to put an end to this, it wasn’t healthy for either of us, but then I kept thinking maybe I - maybe I could do some good… maybe I could help her. So I didn’t say anything, and she kept coming over. I made sure she always got everything out first, explaining whatever Sam was doing to make her feel this way. I wanted her to see- not how bad he was treating her, she knew that much already- but see that she had other options.

 

I felt like, in a way, I  _ was _ helping. I offered her an escape, helped her get away from everything she dealt with at home. But it still wasn’t enough.

 

Monday morning, I dropped Charlotte back off at her house before going to work. Sam’s car wasn’t in the driveway, even though he never actually worked early shifts. When I walked into the office, I heard yelling from Mr. Davidson’s office. Someone’s getting fired, probably.

Around noon, I walked into the break room. Paul handed me a chai iced tea from Beanie’s.

“Man, I can’t believe Mr. Davidson finally fired Sharon.”

“Eh, I never liked her…”

Sharon was our only person in human resources, but she was terrible with people. Heck, even I was nicer on a daily basis than she was. But, suddenly, I got an idea. I pulled out my phone, dialled Charlotte’s number, and waited for her to pick up.

“Hey Char, you still lookin’ for a job?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We ‘ve got a new opening here at CCRP Tech, human resources. My boss isn’t super picky when it comes to hiring, so I’d say you’ve got a pretty good chance.”

 

One week later, Charlotte was working full time behind the desk across the room from mine. I felt like this was going to be good for her, she wouldn’t have to sit at home all day, and I could keep an eye on her. But I could tell things were still bad with Sam. She was smoking more, Paul’s even called her out a few times for trying to smoke in the office.

 

A few weeks later, I took her home after work, Sam had called her at work today and it had left her particularly upset.

I could tell she was distracted by the storm outside, and I was too. I’d never seen a storm this violent in Hatchetfield before.

 

After the meteor hit and people started singing, I was a lot less worried about Sam, until Charlotte called the police. Sure, it sounded like a good idea. But it also sounded like three harmonious angels with handcuffs, something I had never planned on dealing with.

 

I saw Sam getting closer to her, and I was blinded by rage, for just a split second. And in that moment, I grabbed a metal trash can lid and slammed it against his head. He crumpled to the ground, brains spilling across the pavement. She ran to his side. This really was her chance to be happy, he was dead, no longer a problem. But she really couldn't move on. 

I couldn't stop thinking about it, even later, at the professor’s house. I stormed off after yelling at her about her dead husband, leaving her alone with his corpse. The next time I saw her, she was just as far gone as he was. I could only stare as the professor shot them both, and they collapsed in a pile on the floor, together. At least she got what she wanted.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments greatly appreciated  
> :)


End file.
